


Leaves from the Vine

by steelebird



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: But don't let me sink your ship, Hurt/Comfort, Not intended to be romantic, Ozai is literally the worst, somewhat graphic descriptions of injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-19 17:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13709520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelebird/pseuds/steelebird
Summary: Iroh goes to check on his nephew's recovery following the Agni Kai, only to discover that Zuko has yet to be treated for his injuries.





	Leaves from the Vine

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I rewatched Avatar, and I am continuously amazed by how many new things I find to appreciate each time around. I've been particularly struck by what a beautiful job the creators did with building such depth and affection into the relationship between Iroh and Zuko.
> 
> This scene occurred to me after watching S2E7 Zuko Alone, because it also reminded me of when Iroh tells the story of the Agni Kai, and I wondered about the time lapse between Zuko being debilitatingly injured and being forced out of the Fire Nation. I could very much picture Ozai doing everything he could to make the lesson as painful as possible, and Iroh doing what he could to alleviate Zuko's suffering.

"I will not be turned away today. Not again."

Iroh did not raise his voice, but then again he didn't need to. The guards outside of his nephew's rooms knew very well who he was. And whereas before he had obeyed when they regretfully informed him that the doctors had forbidden visitors, today he felt a sense of urgency that he could not repress.

The last time he had seen Zuko with his own eyes had been after the Agni Kai, as his nephew's unconscious form was loaded onto a medical stretcher and hustled away. Since then, only the palace healer had been allowed access, and not knowing how Zuko's injury fared was a weight on Iroh's heart that increased with every passing hour.

He did not allow the surprise to show on his face when the guards bowed deeply, and pushed open the doors to the prince's chamber without a word of protest. Iroh braced himself to be accosted as soon as he entered by nurses and healers standing guard over their patient. He had all his excuses and explanations ready, and was prepared to demand that someone update him on Zuko's progress.

Instead, he was greeted with a receiving room that echoed with stillness. The only light came from where the curtains were haphazardly pulled open, allowing in just enough sunlight to see by. The guards at the doorway seemed confused as well, though they did not speak until Iroh addressed them.

"Has anyone entered these chambers recently?" he asked, looking around the quiet room. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been surrounded by such silence, without even the quiet scuffle of servants moving about.

"No, sir" one answered promptly. "We've been on duty since sunrise, and no one has come."

Nearly twelve hours without anyone coming to relieve the night shift nurses? Were the healers staying in the bedroom to watch over the prince? If his nephew was so badly off that he needed constant attention, then Iroh had been correct to worry.

With this thought to speed his steps, Iroh made his way down the hall to the bedchamber. The doors here were closed as well, and he did not wait for the guards at his back to offer before pushing them open.

The bedroom was almost completely dark, and it was only by the dim light of a bedside candle that Iroh was able to make out the shape of Zuko's hunched form under the blankets. For a horrible, endless moment, Iroh wondered if he'd interrupted preparations for a wake.

Then the lump moved, as Zuko's body was wracked with shivers strong enough to bow his back. Iroh was not embarrassed to run to his nephew's side, though he was distantly angry at the trembling helplessness of his hands as they hovered over Zuko's shadowed figure.

With a steady, controlled breath through his nose, Iroh centered himself and drove the single candle flame higher. With enough light to ensure he did not injure Zuko further by flailing in the dark, he gently, so very gently, placed two fingers under his nephew's chin and turned his face into the light.

Stark against the ashen paleness of his face, the raw skin of Zuko's wound was terrible to see, even in the forgiving candlelight. The burn was festering, an angry swirl of scarlet-red infection and milky white pus. Worst of all was the mangled eyelid, which was now drawn so tightly across the boy's left eye that it couldn't close completely. The frantic flickering movements of the eye were visible as Zuko's fevered body twitched in sleep. Iroh's breath hitched, his throat tight, and he had to swallow back tears before speaking.

"What is the meaning of this?" His voice was low, but the cold fury of his tone drew a flinch from the guards. "Why has the prince not been tended to? It has been days, and his burns are not even bandaged."

The guards hesitated, looking at one another and clearly struggling for an response, before the one closest to the door answered, "His treatment is being overseen by the palace healer at the Fire Lord's request, General. I am afraid you would need to ask Master Fei directly regarding the specifics of Prince Zuko's recovery." Iroh could not withhold a bark of sarcastic laughter at the word. Recovery? There was a long pause. "Shall we fetch him for you, sir?"

"No," Iroh snapped, and the guards cringed again as the candle flared briefly, consuming the wax so rapidly that it hissed and sputtered. 

"No," he repeated, taking a long breath. "Send for my own healer, then bar the doors. No one else is to enter, especially not Master Fei." When the guards seemed poised to argue, Iroh turned to face them, though his hand remained resting against Zuko's neck. "Anyone who comes through those doors without my permission had best be prepared to explain themselves to me."

The guards dropped their gazes to the floor and bowed deeply to the General before backing out of the room. 

Once the doors had closed behind them, Iroh turned back to his unconscious nephew. Zuko's long hair had pulled free of its pony tail, and the strands were tangled and sticking to his sweaty face. Iroh did what he could to push them away from Zuko's neck and face, though he did not dare touch what had become encrusted in the wound itself. He would leave that to the physician.

He is so very young, Iroh thought tiredly, feeling the exhaustion deep in his bones. Would he ever stop standing over the graves of children?

He was grateful when his thoughts were interrupted.

"General Iroh, you sent for me?" Iroh started slightly, not having heard the door open. His healer, Master Zhou, stood in the doorway, looking around the dark room nervously. In his hand was a large healing supply kit.

Iroh gestured him forward, and with a flick of his wrist lit the rest of the lanterns. Master Zhou inhaled sharply when he caught sight of the prince, and Iroh saw a flicker of fear in his face.

"I can assure you, Master Zhou," Iroh said, his voice hard as iron, "that if Prince Zuko should be claimed by his injuries, I know it will be no fault of yours." 

It was mostly intended to reassure the doctor, but the man was also smart enough to understand that he was expected to do everything possible.

"Thank you, General, of course the young prince has my complete devotion," Master Zhou answered, putting his kit down on a nearby table as he spoke and unpacking the contents. 

"His injuries are... quite severe, my lord. I will need help managing. Shall I send for one of my apprentices...?" the healer suggested hesitantly, not willing to directly ask the Dragon of the West to do anything he might not like.

Iroh smiled grimly. "I have helped with a fair few injuries during my years in the military, Master Zhou. I assure you I will follow your directions exactly."

And he was not willing to entrust Zuko to anyone else, not when his nephew had been left to languish in such cruel pain.

Zhou nodded his compliance and joined Iroh at the prince's side.

Hours slipped away as the two worked. Master Zhou had to drain the wound and wash it carefully before he could apply an anesthetic, and Iroh was desperately grateful that Zuko remained unconscious, though they did have to pin his shoulders to the bed to stop his thrashing. By the time the salves and bandages were applied, Iroh and Zhou were both sweating, but Zuko had soaked the sheets several times over and was now moaning softly. 

Master Zhou held a hand to the prince's forehead. "His fever is dangerously high, no doubt from the infection, and he's severely dehydrated. I will send for a servant to help us change the bedding." He waited for Iroh to give a nod of assent, then continued, "I will administer what medicine I have, but from there we must do what we can to bring down his temperature."

Zhou left the bedroom, and Iroh could hear the distant murmur of his voice as he spoke with the guards. He returned a few minutes later with a servant, who bowed respectfully to Iroh then went about her task. Iroh and Zhou lifted Zuko to allow the maid to strip the bedding, then lifted the prince again as layers of towels were placed under him.

The maid left with the sheets bundled under her arm, and Iroh set about gently patting the sweat from Zuko's limbs. Zuko was shivering violently once again, and he did not calm until Master Zhou injected a sedative into his shoulder. Then they began the long, seemingly endless task of draping the patient's overheated body with cool cloths, and swapping them out as they became tepid.

They worked late into the night, and both men were damp, sweaty, and near exhaustion themselves when they finally saw the fruits of their labor.

"Look, General." Zhou gestured at the prince. Thin furls of steam were rising from the damp towels draped over Zuko's body. "This is a good sign. His body temperature is regulating enough to react to his discomfort."

Zhou stood and stretched slightly, then turned towards the door. "With your permission, General, I will go see about gathering more supplies and ordering some food." 

Iroh waved his hand in agreement, then settled into the chair next to Zuko's pillow and carded his fingers into his nephew's dark hair, which was as fluffy as a turtleduck now that it was dry. Careful not to disturb his sleep, Iroh separated the strands and braided them, humming quietly as he worked.

"Leaves from the vine... falling so slow... like fragile, tiny shells..."

\---

More time passed, though Iroh did not keep track of how long. Zuko slept heavily for several hours, a sleep that indicated healing rather than the fitful restlessness that had plagued him before. Master Zhou was pleased with his patient's progress and told Iroh he was fairly confident that the prince was out of danger. Some time after this announcement, Zuko finally woke.

"Uncle?"

Zuko's voice was nearly inaudible, graveled with sickness and thirst, but Iroh woke immediately from the semi-doze to which his exhausted body had fallen prey. He quickly sat up in his chair, and supported Zuko's head while squeezing some drops of water from a wet cloth into his mouth.

"There you are, my nephew," he said, voice low despite the smile he forced onto his face. "I have dearly missed your company." 

Zuko watched dazedly as Iroh's hands smoothed over the bedcovers, tucking his blankets more securely around his neck. His uncovered eye was hazy with exhaustion and medicine.

"Uncle, how long has it been? I th-" His words were cut short when movement pulled at the skin around his eye beneath the bandages. His mouth fell open and he drew deep but steady gasps as he breathed through the pain. Just as he's been taught, Iroh thought, his heart clenching with a deep, heavy sorrow. "I think I need a doctor," Zuko finished in a small voice.

Iroh turned away to gesture to Zhou, who had stood from a chair near the fireplace and was waiting a respectful distance away. If Zhou noticed Iroh brushing a sleeve across his eyes, he did not comment on it. Instead the healer spoke softly to Zuko while administering another dose of painkiller, assuring the prince that he would soon feel the effects.

Iroh had meanwhile moved away from the bedside to make room, but did not go far. Instead he took up a position at the foot of the bed and watched closely as the bandages were pulled away and various ointments and oils reapplied. Iroh trusted Zhou for the most part, but he trusted his own instincts more. He'd made a mistake in ignoring them when they insisted something was wrong, that if Zuko were able he would have been kicking Iroh's door down to demand further training, injury or no injury. Now he would oversee things personally until he was sure that his nephew was no longer in danger. 

He wondered if that day would ever come. 

Zuko's breathing settled as the medicine deadened the pain that throbbed across his face and in his head. Iroh returned to his chair and reached over to grip Zuko's hand firmly. Zuko made no effort to pull away, and after a moment his fingers tightened around his uncle's palm.

"I believe the prince will benefit most from quiet company and rest now, General Iroh. Is there anything else I can do for you?" Master Zhou asked, keeping his voice low. Iroh shook his head, unable to bring himself to look away from his nephew.

"No, Master Zhou, I think we can be left to ourselves. I am very grateful for your help." From the corner of his eye he saw Zhou bow and move to the table to repack his medical kit. As the healer turned to leave, Iroh called out to him.

"Oh, and Master Zhou?" The physician paused, waiting. "Please make sure Master Fei is escorted to my chambers. I wish to speak with him later regarding his course of treatment."

Zhou swallowed, eyes wide, but he bowed and departed with nothing more than a last "Of course, General Iroh. Right away."

Iroh waited until he heard the click of the lock before he allowed himself to turn his back on the door and scoot forward in his chair until his chin was nearly resting on Zuko's pillow.

"I am sorry for your pain, Prince Zuko; that you were left alone with it at all is unacceptable. Unforgivable."

Zuko seemed to hesitate, but the question bubbled out of him. "Where were you?" he asked plaintively. Iroh felt his face crumple and quickly looked down at the richly patterned silk duvet. Zuko turned his gaze to the ceiling and kept it there, but continued, "I called for you, I think. Did you hear me?"

Iroh sighed. The hand that was not still firmly gripping Zuko's reached up and smoothed back the prince's hair. Zuko flinched slightly, instinctively shying away from sensation so close to his injury, but after a moment he relaxed into the touch. Iroh waited for a long while, unsure if he was giving Zuko time to settle, or himself time to find the words.

"When you were injured, you were brought here by the palace healers. I knew your injury was severe, and that you would not be awake for hours. I came early the next morning, but they told me the healers would not allow visitors. On the second day, they said you did not want to see anyone, that forcing my company would upset your recovery. Today, they did not even bother to stop me. I believe they knew the damage was already done."

The fingers maintained their gentle grooming, but Zuko could see the tense lines of his uncle's shoulders.

"It is inevitable that it will scar, now. Master Zhou will continue to ease your pain, but the most we can expect is to prevent the damage from becoming worse. No one except a waterbender would be able to do any more. And they are in rather short supply in the palace nowadays." Iroh smiled down at his nephew, but it was hardly more than a slight tilt of the lips that immediately fell away.

"I am so very sorry, Prince Zuko," Iroh told him, voice breaking slightly.

Zuko finally turned his gaze away from the ceiling to look into his uncle's face. The right side of his lips quirked with a black humor that was painful to see on his young face. "So am I, Uncle." He turned his face away again, and was silent for several minutes.

"What will happen after I've healed?" Zuko finally asked. 

Iroh considered his answer. If he was right in his theories, now was not a good time to undermine his nephew's trust with empty platitudes.

"Nothing pleasant," he finally said. Zuko's visible eye fluttered shut, but his jaw firmed as he set his teeth. The prince gave a small, sharp nod of acceptance. Then his eye opened again, and he turned to meet his uncle's gaze.

"Will you stay with me? For now?" Iroh could tell that the childishness of the request galled Zuko; he forced the words from between clenched teeth. But Zuko maintained eye contact and his chin lifted slightly, as if daring Iroh to comment.

Iroh could only smile. He withdrew his hands briefly, but they returned with a comb taken from the bedside table. He ran the teeth through Zuko's hair and gently began to pick apart the tangles.

"Of course I will stay, Prince Zuko. For now, and for all the times after."


End file.
